Chapter 134 Bourbon in Action

Amuro Tooru strode quickly through a relatively quiet side corridor of the gallery, the helpless and apologetic expression he had worn while speaking vanished. His footsteps were silent, his gaze fixed on a man in a gray trench coat holding a gentleman's cane not far ahead.

The missing data did not involve codenamed members or deeper secrets of the organization; it only contained partial financial records and detailed background information of personnel from several small overseas research institutes.

Individually, intelligence may have limited value, or even seem trivial, but its value often lies in its connections and connections.

If these clues fall into the hands of someone with a keen eye, digging deeper into them might uncover traces of the organization's early activities that haven't been completely cleared up, because what's special is that these research institutes were all established very early on.

Of course, this is just an ideal situation; in reality, an investigation isn't that easy. Therefore, Rum wasn't particularly concerned. His attitude was clear: the item wasn't core; losing it would be a bit troublesome, but not worth the fuss. He could simply increase the mission's merit and let the intelligence team handle it.

Rei Furuya decides to become a loyal follower of the organization, Bourbon, and do his mission well—this information is not of much intelligence value to the Public Security Bureau, whose reach does not extend overseas, making it difficult to take the opportunity to dig deeper into the clues.

As for the man ahead, Amuro Tooru quickly reviewed the information in his mind:

A cunning broker operating in the gray area, doing troubleshooting and buying and selling intelligence.

For example, he uses the financial loopholes of well-known companies and the secret relationships of politicians and celebrities to make huge profits, which often gives big shots a headache, but does not alarm the national level.

He was clever enough to navigate the cracks in the rules, and confident enough to believe he could always get out of the way before anyone else. He successfully avoided numerous prison sentences and the machinations of his rivals.

A fox that thinks it can steal scraps from the feeding trough of wild beasts without getting bitten.

But this time, the fox clearly misjudged the origin of the goods.

The financial statements in the documents clearly had some issues. In his eyes, this might just be a record of money laundering or tax evasion by an ordinary company. The buyer of the documents was his business rival, and it was a simple business competition.

The other party's investment was substantial, and they were quick to transfer the money. It seemed like a good deal, and the risks appeared manageable.

How dangerous could a set of financial and employee information pose? Therefore, he was relaxed, even displaying a certain nonchalance characteristic of successful individuals.

Amuro Tooru scoffed inwardly. Foolish confidence.

The other party turned into a more secluded passage, where there were almost no visitors. People living in the gray area always subconsciously avoid surveillance, which made it easier for Amuro Tooru.

Amuro Tooru's eyes narrowed; now was the time.

He suddenly accelerated, silently closing in on his target. His left hand moved with lightning speed, precisely targeting the artery on the side of the opponent's neck, intending to instantly suppress his mobility; his right hand, like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, reached straight for the inside pocket of the opponent's suit, the most likely place to hide something.

This sudden attack clearly exceeded the enemy's expectations.

As a broker who constantly walks on the edge of danger, he was not without the ability to protect himself. In his shock, he reflexively made a blocking motion, trying to deflect the hand that was holding his throat and protect his chest.

However, the gap in strength was as vast as an insurmountable chasm.

Amuro Tooru's movements were swift and decisive. He changed his lock with his left hand into a buckle, grabbed his opponent's wrist with his backhand, and pressed it down. At the same time, his right knee had already silently struck his opponent's abdomen.

After a few dull thuds and suppressed groans, the man in the trench coat was slammed against the cold wall, and a white-gloved hand gripped his throat like an iron clamp.

Amuro Tooru stopped the other person from making too much noise.

"Ugh!" Caught off guard, the broker's head slammed against the wall with a dull thud, and his cane clattered to the ground. He stared wide-eyed at the handsome yet chillingly cold face before him, and the danger lurking in those purplish-gray eyes.

The dust settled, and Amuro Tooru withdrew his right hand from the inner pocket, which was now completely suppressed and unable to defend itself. The sensation at his fingertips was empty, only the smooth silk lining.

"Where is it?" The question was concise and to the point, without any beating around the bush.

Amuro Tooru's voice was low, yet carried an undeniable chill, and the dark aura of Bourbon permeated the small space.

The broker's expression froze for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing laboredly between Amuro Tooru's fingers. He tried to bluff, "S-Sir, I don't understand what you're saying. If it's about business, is there some misunderstanding? Perhaps we can discuss the terms. How about we find a place to sit down and have a proper chat?"

“I don’t have time to listen to your nonsense.” Bourbon interrupted him, his aura suddenly becoming extremely oppressive, the kind of dangerous aura that only someone who has been immersed in the dark world for a long time and has truly seen blood would possess.

"Hand over what you 'picked up' from next to Takumi Imamura's body."

Bourbon had little patience for him, and neither did Furuya Rei. He had investigated the other's background, and the man was definitely not a good person.

It turned out that he was attracted by the information he had sold before!

A fine layer of cold sweat beaded on the broker's forehead. He realized that the blond youth before him was no ordinary thug sent by a business.

That cold, indifferent gaze treated him like a piece of trash that needed to be disposed of.

All the arguments and negotiation skills he had prepared beforehand seemed so pale and laughable in the face of such an absolute power disparity and cold gaze.

He had just tried to do two things at once.

The broker panicked. Could there be some secret in that document?

But he had already traded it away a few minutes ago!

"I...I really don't know what you mean..." The broker tried to struggle, but his voice trembled involuntarily.

"Ugh!" Before he could finish speaking, the hand gripping his throat tightened suddenly, causing his face to flush red and his eyes to bulge from lack of oxygen. At the same time, a cold, hard object pressed against his side—the muzzle of a gun.

Bourbon tilted his head slightly, leaned close to his ear, and said in a soft but chilling tone that only the two of them could hear, "Sir, I think you've misunderstood two things. First, I have no interest in negotiating with you. Second, you took something you shouldn't have."

He paused for a moment, loosening his grip slightly to avoid actually strangling the person to death.

The broker's face was flushed with the redness of oxygen deprivation and fear; all his composure and sliver of hope vanished instantly. He could almost feel the chilling breath of death.

"Here, take it all! Take it all!" He stammered, his voice trembling and incoherent, frantically reaching into his coat pocket. "The money... I can give you all the money from the transaction! Double it! No, all of it! I also have a lot of information on important figures here, just let me go..."

He rummaged through his wallet, cards, phone, and a few loose receipts, then reached into his other pockets.

Bourbon let him search, his gaze coldly scrutinizing each item. Nothing. The chips, microfilms, or special papers that should have been encrypted and stored… not a single one.

“It’s not on you.” Bourbon’s statement carried a cold certainty.

Actually, he had a vague idea of ​​what was going on when he observed the other party's behavior. This is troublesome.

"I...I..." The broker leaned against the cold wall, his face filled with despair. "I just gave it to Matsuo Riku, in the rest area over there! I really didn't know it was so hot to handle; I thought it was just ordinary documents. Please let me go, I won't say a word! I promise!"

Upon returning home, the broker deleted the backup he had made just in case, feeling utterly unlucky. He genuinely believed it was ordinary data and sold it at the price of ordinary data, never imagining it would cause him such a huge problem.

Bourbon holstered his gun, but the chill in his eyes remained undiminished. He didn't need to ask any more questions; the intelligence had been transferred, and this terrified broker was no longer of any use to him.

The organization's rule is to erase all traces, but for some reason Rum asked him to bring this person back. Perhaps this person has some special talent? Bourbon said he couldn't see it.

After ascertaining the details of the transaction and Matsuo Rihisa's appearance and location, he quickly pressed a spot on the side of the broker's neck.

The broker froze instantly, his eyes glazed over for a moment, and then he slid softly down the wall and collapsed to the ground, as if he had suddenly fainted.

The order to take this person away was issued to the peripheral members who were cooperating in the search within the art exhibition. The ruthless organization leader, Bourbon, began searching for Matsuo Rihisa.

...

"Riku?! Riku, what's wrong with you?! Someone help me—!!

Nekono Ikuya and the others rushed to the location from which the screams came, which was a lounge.

There were fewer people at the scene than expected. A young woman in a beige suit with exquisite makeup slumped against the wall, covering her mouth with her hands and trembling all over. She was the source of the scream.

Not far in front of her, a man in a dark brown suit lay slumped on the sofa in an extremely unnatural posture, his eyes wide open, his face a strange pinkish-red, and there seemed to be a trace of suspicious white foam at the corner of his mouth.

A delicate white porcelain coffee cup rolled to the ground, with some dark liquid remaining at the bottom.

Everyone here is an experienced person, and there are also two high school detectives present—although one of them has unfortunately shrunk.

Some of them called the police, while others comforted the young woman. The two detectives, one big and one small, immediately began examining the deceased's face and the cup.

Cyanide.

Upon smelling the faint scent of bitter almonds, Nekono Ikuya made her judgment almost instantly.

His gaze swept quickly across the scene—the deceased, the terrified woman, the overturned cup, the fallen man's handbag, and... a dark wooden gentleman's cane that had rolled to the base of the wall as the deceased fell.

A gentleman's cane?

Nekono Ikumi's emerald green eyes narrowed slightly.

The brass handle, the dark wood, the antique and refined design. His keen observation helped him; his memory flashed back, settling on that fleeting glance he had made moments before.

It was exactly the same cane that Zero was going to secretly track down.

Coincidence? Two identical canes appearing in this place?

Miss Sakura moved her feet imperceptibly, as if intimidated by the horrific scene and instinctively wanting to move further away, naturally retreating towards the direction where the cane had rolled. Her figure blocked the view of most people behind her, and also brought the cane into the narrow space between herself and the wall.

Excuse me, officers who haven't arrived yet, but he's about to violate the public morality of Mikasa City in maintaining the crime scene by inspecting this cane.